Five years ago, my world became very small.
A hospital room.
A mind that wouldn’t slow down.
Thoughts racing faster than sleep could catch them.
It was the scariest time of my life.
I had just had my baby. I had been readmitted after complications, completely exhausted, anaemic and running on almost no sleep. My mind was already spinning from worry and fear. When your brain is that tired, reality can start to blur at the edges.
And then it did.
What followed was a storm in my mind that I didn’t understand at the time. Looking back now, I know it was postpartum psychosis beginning to appear. At the time, it just felt like being swept into something surreal and frightening that I couldn’t control.
Five years later, I stood at the top of a mountain.
Just me and a dear friend.
The climb had been tough. The air was cold, the kind that clears your head and reminds you you’re very much alive. Standing there looking out across the landscape, I realised something.
Mountains and mindstorms have more in common than we think.
When you’re in the middle of a storm, you can’t see the horizon.
Everything feels chaotic.
Your thoughts move faster than you can keep up with.
But storms pass.
And when they do, something changes.
You don’t just return to where you were before.
You learn how strong you are.
You learn how to climb again.
Five years ago I could never have imagined this version of life.
Standing on a mountain.
Feeling steady.
Breathing deeply and looking out at the world again.
Recovery doesn’t always look dramatic. Sometimes it’s just thousands of small steps forward. Quiet climbs that no one else sees.
Until one day you realise you’re standing somewhere you never thought you’d reach.
The view is pretty incredible from here.
